


Automatic Dialing is for Chumps

by kalika_999



Series: Jack and Brock's misadventures [74]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: HYDRA Husbands, Late Night Conversations, M/M, Wrong Number AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-18
Updated: 2019-06-18
Packaged: 2020-05-13 20:52:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,313
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19258981
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kalika_999/pseuds/kalika_999
Summary: “Nat, are ya even awake?”“I’m not Nat, but I am awake.”





	Automatic Dialing is for Chumps

“..And then he was chasin’ me all over Manhattan and I kept fallin’ inta some kinda fuckin’ quicksand an’ every time I got to talkin’ to someone fer help they were all blabberin’ in Latin or some shit.  When I would get a certain distance away, this magical cupcake appeared and I’d eat it so fast and wash it down with coke. Do you  _ know _ how many calories that would be?  Holy fuck. Anyway, who in the hell gets nightmares about Stay Puft Marshmallow Man?” He paused a moment. “Nat, are ya even awake?”

There was a deep yawn at the other end. “I’m not Nat, but I am awake.”

“You ain’t- Jesus Christ.” Brock pulls himself up to sit. He glanced at his phone screen and the call was hitting almost a full ten minutes.  Shaking his head to himself, he brought it back to his ear. “Are ya serious? Then who the hell did I call?”

“Yeah, I mean I know a Nat but unless something weird happened where I’m trapped as her, you got the wrong number. This is Jack.”

“It’s three in the mornin’, Jack.  Why’d ya pick up? This ain’t 3964?”

Brock heard a mug being set down on the counter, and then the distinct sound of numbers being entered on a microwave.  The door closed and then there was that telltale hum when it was turned on. 

“I just got back from a..business trip.” Jack sounded like he was stretching a little. “And no, this is 3931.”

“Well. Shit.” Brock dropped back down against the mattress and stared up at the ceiling, running his fingers through his hair considering it was already a mess. “I guess m’sorry then, you were prolly ‘bout to get some sleep.”

“Nah, it’s fine,” Jack said. He didn’t sound put out of place, it actually sounded like the opposite.  That was a plus at least. “I guess if push came to shove, I’d appreciate someone listening to me tell them my story about sugar-coma inducing levels of dessert ingestion and a character from Ghostbusters stalking me.  Though I certainly do suggest laying off eating expired take out.” 

“I never ate no expired food!” Brock snapped out, frowning before he tilted his head slightly in thought. “Well, I don’t think it was expired..”

“That’s how those nightmares get you.  First you eat food a couple days old, then you risk five days, and then later you’re so lazy you just take the leap at seven and hope for the best. I know, I’ve been there, it’s never fun.  Trust your sense of smell and say no to partially rotting food. Though, now that I’m thinking about it, now I’m hungry.” 

“Are ya havin’ fun bein’ an asshole?”

“Me? An asshole? No, well not at this moment.” The microwave went off with a long beep. “Actually, I think there’s a few slices of chocolate cake from yesterday..”

Brock sat up again, taking a long moment staring off into the dark. “Why haven’t ya hung up yet?”

“Do you want me to?”

“I ain’t sayin’ that.” Brock rolled to his side and tucked the spare pillow under his armpit. He put his phone on speaker and went to his contacts list, decidedly saving the new number as Jack.  In the background he could hear a cutlery drawer opening and then a cabinet before a saucer was set against the counter. “And I’m curious. Do ya always wait ‘til the last minute to tell a wrong number they ain’t got the right person?”

“I can’t remember the last time I answered to a wrong number actually.  I think you might be my first. Plus, it wasn’t like I was sleeping and you sounded like you really needed to get it off your chest so my ear was all yours.  Besides which, you could have just auto-dialed.”

“Coulda what?”

Jack huffed and if Brock was a betting man, he probably rolled his eyes at him too. “You obviously meant to call this Nat person, but you called me instead.  What was the point?”

Brock shrugged at the phone and it took a second for him to realize Jack wouldn’t see it. “I changed phones recently, been lazy.”

“Ah, well that explains getting me instead.” 

“Yeah, like I said before, sorry ‘bout that.  M’Brock, by the way.” 

“It’s fine, but if it’s all the same to you, I’m going to drink my warm milk and eat that slice of cake I just remembered I had and head to bed.  You probably need to get back to sleep anyway.” 

“Yeah, I definitely should.” Brock agreed. He took the phone off speaker and brought it back to his ear, if they were about to hang up he’d like to hear Jack’s voice closer, just one last time.  He’s not shy about admitting how nice it sounded. “Hey, ah. Do ya think..”

“Yeah?”

“Would it be weird to text ya again?  I mean fer other things, not about fucked up dreams or anythin’.  I mean, m’grateful fer you even listenin’ to my ramble in the first place.” Brock trailed off, poking at his blanket, maybe feeling a little too hopeful.

Jack chuckled. “I wouldn’t mind.  It was something different, made me feel better about the ones I randomly have.”

“Well thanks.” 

“It’s a compliment.” Brock swore he could hear him smiling. “Goodnight, Brock.”

Brock couldn’t help smiling right back. “Night, Jack.”

He ended the call, letting his eyes adjust to the full exposure of the dark as he thought back to the conversation he’d just had.  It also made him wonder if he really could get back to sleep right away or if it would drop him back to where he’d woken up just to mess him up all over again.   


He let himself wander to the lull of Jack’s voice, creating a vague image of how he looked despite having no idea if any of it was true or not.  He imagined an apartment and Jack on his phone walking around while they spoke, even down to the cup of milk and slices of chocolate cake. It was effective in causing him to drift off to sleep without any signs of weird dreams or thoughts to invade his mind and gave him a peace he so badly wanted in the first place.

He woke in the morning to a new text, a picture of a steak knife impaling three marshmallows and a hostess cupcake stacked on top of each other beside a can of coke.  It was rather impressive that the knife was still perfectly balanced considering how heavy it looked in comparison to the food, but then it may have gone right through the paper towel used as a plate and was stuck to the counter.  He wasn’t going to ask, that was another question for another time. It was still too early to head into that territory with his newfound friend.

Brock laughed at the effort though, a message written underneath. 

_ In case you have the same nightmare, show them this.  If they still persist, I’m good with my hands, I’ll come save you princess.  _

Maybe Brock should be offended at the nickname, but right now he can’t be bothered.  He only rolls out onto his back and takes a picture of his middle finger to send in reply before wondering if he had time to grab an hour of extra sleep. 

It’s not even a minute later when Jack texts him back with a side shot of Natasha on her own phone, flashing a perfectly manicured middle finger just as Jack apparently takes a picture of her.  Brock sits up against his pillows in surprise, a small humored smirk peeking out as he reads the text below it.

_ So your Nat and my Nat are one in the same. Small world, huh? _

It really fucking is.


End file.
